Failure to Communicate
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: If you don’t open your heart, then the words can never come. If you don’t spell it out, then he’ll never know. Especially with Nick … he’s kind of oblivious some days. Two chapters. Angst/Romance. Nick/Greg. Nick’s POV. Slash.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **_"What we've got here … is failure to communicate." _–Strother Martin

Two chapters. Angst/Romance. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV. Slash.

I'd also like to thank everyone who's ever reviewed one of my stories. I don't generally reply to them (like on **WMTDB**) but I love and appreciate every single one of them. Sometimes it's just a great feeling to go back and re-read what someone thought of one of my stories. For one story, this review actually made me think about myself, and how it was almost dead accurate for me. It was a weird feeling, but I'd been going through some hard stuff at the time, and it helped me to open up. So, all in all … I just wanted to say thank-you.

**Disclaimer: **If only I was Anthony Zuiker, then I could say I owned Nick and Greg, but I do not. If only … if only …

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks to Amanda for editing it. Or reading it over and finding a few mistakes and just telling me how much she loved it.

**Summary: **If you don't open your heart, then the words can never come. If you don't spell it out, then he'll never know. Especially with Nick … he's kind of oblivious some days.

**Failure to Communicate**

Nick sighed freely as he exited Grissom's office. Another murder solved. Another person going to jail. Sometimes he wondered about the world, but he knew that—

Nick was almost knocked right off his feet. A blur had barreled into him, and the wind was completely gone from his lungs as he stumbled backwards.

"Sorry, Nick!" Greg cried, grabbing the older man's arm to stop him from falling. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Nick wheezed, clutching his chest.

"I was just coming to see you about something," Greg said, eyeing the Texan in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Nick replied. He took a deep breath, trying to get his diaphragm to expand. "What did you want to see me about?"

Greg hesitated, his face paling.

"I was … I was …" He stopped and took a calming breath. "I was going to—to ask you if you … you w—wanted to uh … go out for lunch? Wait, no, I mean breakfast! Breakfast. Would you want to go out with me for breakfast?" Greg finished in a rush, his cheeks ablaze.

"Sure," Nick said casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Greg beamed at him, his eyes almost radiating an otherworldly light.

"All right, cool. I'll uh … go finish up my report for Grissom and I'll meet you in the locker room."

"Okay," Nick said, smiling at the younger man. He almost laughed out loud when he saw Greg skip off down the hallway. He'd never seen the young CSI Level One this excited to go out for breakfast before.

Once in the locker room, Nick found Warrick sitting on the bench, pulling on a tight fitting black t-shirt.

"Hey," Nick said as he unlocked his locker and pulled out his jacket.

"Hey."

"How was your case?"

"It's always bad when there's a kid involved," Warrick muttered darkly, his expression clouding over.

"Mhmm," Nick agreed, sighing.

"So any plans for the day?" Warrick asked, bending down to tie his shoe.

Nick shrugged nonchalantly.

"Just going out for breakfast with Greg, then heading home to sleep."

Warrick turned to stare at Nick for a second, his vibrant green eyes locking on to Nick's own chocolate brown eyes.

"Just you two going out for breakfast?"

"Yeah, unless you'd want to come, too?" Nick responded, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Right at that moment, Greg bounded in to the room. He clapped Nick on the shoulder and bounced over to his locker, humming a tune to himself.

"Ready to go?" Greg asked Nick cheerfully, his head inside his locker.

"Yeah, I was just asking—"

Warrick shook his head violently, cutting Nick short. The Texan gazed at his best friend uncertainly, but Warrick didn't say anything.

"Asking what?" Greg inquired, poking his head out of the locker.

Before Nick could get a word out, Warrick jumped to his feet.

"Just asking me about my case, Greggo. Nothin' big."

Greg nodded as he grabbed his sweater and pulled it on. Warrick slid a sneaky glance at Nick, but all he did was pat the Texan on the shoulder, and wave as he exited the room. Nick hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Without even realizing it, Greg was leading him out of the room and down the hall towards the under ground parking lot.

"Where do you want to go for breakfast?" Greg questioned him once they were outside, the chill fall air biting at their faces.

Nick didn't really answer; his mind was still trying to piece together Warrick's encrypted actions.

"Well, if you're leaving it up to me, why don't we go somewhere out of the norm?"

Again, Nick didn't really answer. All he did was shrug his shoulders and kind of nod at the same time. Greg must've taken that as a yes, because he suddenly started walking with even more of a spring in his step.

"I know the perfect place …" Greg said, his shoulder bumping gently against Nick's. "You'll love it—it has this chocolate fondue fountain and …"

* * *

The next day, Nick was putting his jacket into his locker before shift when Warrick sauntered into the room, a sly grin on his face.

"So how was your date?" he asked, eyeing Nick knowingly.

The Texan stopped short, slowly turning around.

"What date?"

"You know what date."

Nick blinked, trying to figure out what Warrick meant.

"Honestly, man, I have no idea."

Warrick leaned up against the locker next to Nick's. He smiled and slowly drawled out Greg's name. In response, Nick rolled his eyes and asked what Greg had to do with a date. It was Warrick's turn to roll his eyes.

"I was talking about your date _with_ Greggo."

Nick felt as if a fire had been lit behind his cheeks. He knew he was blushing badly, but he tried to ignore it.

"It wasn't a date."

Warrick's startlingly green eyes rolled once again, and Nick knew that his friend didn't believe him. For some reason, Nick's hands had started to shake. He turned back to his locker and hung his jacket up, but after he had accomplished that, he spun on his heel to face Warrick. He could feel an undercurrent of anger flowing through his veins.

"Honestly 'Rick, it wasn't a date. I don't even know how you got that idea," he growled, almost glaring at his best friend.

Warrick shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief.

"No one smiles that big when they're just going for breakfast with a co-worker," he replied.

Nick felt his cheeks blaze with fire once again, but he didn't drop his gaze.

"Me and Greg are just friends. JUST FRIENDS!" he practically shouted, turning to slam his locker shut.

With his eyes focused on his locker, Nick didn't notice Greg walk by the locker room at that moment. The exact same moment that the Texan had lost it. Greg stopped for a second, but he continued on his way, not even looking back.


	2. Chapter Two

Nick needed to cool down, so he went to the break room. It was empty, and he was glad. He sat at the table and forced himself to relax. Warrick didn't know what he was talking about … so what? Just forget it. Just let it go.

The horrible part was that he couldn't. He couldn't just forget the look of knowledge on his best friend's face when he had asked about the so-called "date".

Nick sighed in frustration and pushed his chair back slowly. He couldn't figure out why he was so annoyed. Was it the fact that his best friend had figured out his secret without any help, or was it the fact that what Warrick had said had almost given him hope for something he had long wished for?

So what if Nick had lusted after Greg for quite some time? So what if he had long given up on ever going out with the younger man … of ever holding his hand … of ever kissing him …

A man came rushing into the room, a slip of paper in his hand.

"Nick, you have a 419 out on the strip. Take Greg with you. Here's the address. Brass'll meet you there," Grissom said quickly as he dropped the piece of paper on to the table and practically flew back out of the room.

"Okay," Nick mumbled aloud, reaching for the paper.

* * *

After almost resorting to calling the Level One CSI, Nick finally found him in the layout room talking to Sara. He knocked once and entered, immediately realizing that he was interrupting something.

"Hey Greg, Sara," Nick said, smiling quickly at Sara. "We have a 419," he told Greg. The younger man's eyes were expressionless.

Sara glanced between the two men, and quickly rose to her feet. She patted Greg softly on the shoulder and exited the room without a word. Nick flashed a questioning look at the younger man, but he didn't respond.

"Greg?"

Greg got to his feet and Nick could tell he was planning on leaving, but what was going on?

"Hey, G … we can't work a case together if you're ignoring me. If you're planning on leaving, how are you gonna get there? You don't even know the address," the Texan said, his fist tightening around the slip of paper.

Greg stopped, not turning around.

"We're a team, G. We have to be able to talk."

The younger man slowly turned on his heel, his lips trembling slightly, his arms crossed tightly across his slender chest.

"I guess being your teammate means we're just friends, right?" he asked softly, his dark eyes boring into Nick's.

"What … what are you talking about?" the Texan questioned him quickly, his heart rate skyrocketing. Had Warrick told him about … about-

Greg stared fiercely at Nick before closing the distance between them. He plucked the paper out of the older man's hand and gazed at it for a second. He then held it out to the older man, and Nick took it.

"I know the address now," Greg told him, an unfamiliar, monotonous tone entering his voice. Nick had never heard Greg talk like this before.

"I'll meet you out front," the younger man said as he swiftly left the room, leaving Nick standing all by himself, more confused than he'd ever been in his life.

Nick found Greg standing outside the building, holding his kit and tapping his foot almost impatiently.

"Sorry, I didn't keep you waiting for long, did I?" the Texan asked, flashing a smile at the younger man. Greg didn't reciprocate. He didn't even acknowledge the older man; he just started walking towards the company Denali.

Nick had had enough.

He raced after Greg and roughly grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around. Greg glared at Nick, his eyes filled with a smoldering fire. His mouth was set in a thin, hard line, and his shoulders were quaking slightly.

"Greg, this is enough. What the hell is going on?"

Greg emitted a loud noise of frustration, and he put his kit down on the pavement. He put his hands on his hips, and he continued to glower at Nick.

"Are you that oblivious? Honest to God, Nick! That's pathetic."

Nick didn't move a muscle; he was waiting for it all to come out. The truth. When realizing that he wasn't going to retaliate, Greg stepped forwards, getting right in Nick's face. The younger man's eyes were almost like two bottomless pits, a fire burning in their depths.

"Did it mean so little to you that you don't think it's worth remembering? It took me years, Nick, and you don't even realize. You still haven't figured it out, and you call yourself a CSI."

"Realize what?" Nick asked, visibly stung by Greg's words.

"THAT I LIKE YOU, OKAY?" Greg exploded, his words hitting Nick like a ton of bricks. "That I'd always wanted to ask you out, but it'd taken me years to do it! You don't know how hard it was for me to ask you out to one measly little breakfast. Do you have any idea how fast my heart was beating? At that moment, it wasn't as if my heart would keep beating if you said no." Greg's eyes flashed furiously when he saw a shadow of a smile cross Nick's lips. The younger man balled his hands into fists, and his face started to go red.

"Whatever, Nick. You obviously have no fricking clue how hard it was for me to ask you out. No idea how many times I'd tell myself that I was going to do it that day, and I never did. The one time I did do it, and you didn't understand. This … this is just bullshit. Pure bullshit. I'm totally through with this! Just do-"

Greg's words were cut off as Nick's lips met his own. The Texan had his arms wrapped around the younger man, his fingers twisting locks of Greg's silky smooth hair as they kissed. They broke apart after a few moments, both of them breathing hard.

Greg took a step back, the rage completely gone from his eyes. He tried to say something, but the words didn't come. Nick waited, and finally Greg forced out the words he had been meaning to say.

"What … what was that?" he asked, still breathing deeply.

Nick half grinned at Greg, and he licked his lips. He could still taste Greg's peppermint breath on them.

"You demonstrated that talking about feelings wasn't working, so I decided to show you."

Greg flushed again, but he also had a wry smile on his face.

"And you couldn't have done something like that before I made a fool of myself out here … in public?" Greg asked him, waving over his shoulder at a car that had honked at the pair.

Nick tried to hide his smile, but he wasn't having any luck with that, so instead he just shook his head and picked up his dropped kit. Greg did the same, and they both set off for the Denali without another word. A few people (who had obviously been watching their public display of affection) whistled and hooted. Nick felt the back of his neck burn, but he didn't turn around.

Once at the truck, Nick went to unlock the passenger side of the vehicle, but Greg blocked his path, a determined look on his face.

"How do you just go back to work after that? People saw us … it's going to be all over the lab by the time we get back."

"What can you do about it?"

Greg's dark eyes widened in shock.

"You-you don't care?"

"Nope," he replied. "I know the truth now, and that's really all that matters to me. I'm done caring what other people think."

The younger man considered him for a minute, a thoughtful expression on his still semi-shocked face.

"The only person I ever told was Sara," Greg said slowly, still watching Nick. "Did you ever tell anyone? Warrick?"

Nick shook his head.

"He sort of uh … figured it out for himself."

Greg laughed, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, he's a smart guy … but that still doesn't answer my question of how you just get back to work after what just happened. I-I don't think I'll be able to focus," he finished weakly, a more serious expression replacing the grin.

"The way I think of it," Nick began, gently moving Greg out of the way, "is that at work you gotta be professional. What you do after work is … well … your own business, so you can do whatever you want."

"And what do you want to do after work, Nick?" Greg whispered, putting his mouth close to the older man's ear. His breath tickled slightly.

Nick tried to resist the urge to turn around and taste Greg's mouth on his lips … to wrap his arms around the younger man and never let go … so instead he said, "Oh you know …" He let the sentence drop and he unlocked the Denali. He turned to go unlock his own side, but Greg (once again) was in his way. Greg's eyes were lit up with an internal light, and Nick could see the lust in those bright eyes.

"Greg …" Nick began, silently cursing the growl that was in his voice, "we really should go to the crime scene …"

Greg sighed theatrically and backed off, allowing Nick to pass. As the older man walked by him, Greg grabbed his sleeve for a second.

"And if what _I_ wanted to after work involved chocolate sauce, you'd say …"

"As long as it wasn't peanut butter, I'd uhh … be okay with it?"

Greg burst out laughing and patted Nick on the shoulder and hopped into the Denali, leaving Nick standing there, once again confused.

As he stood there, the Texan realized that Greg would always confuse him. The younger man's actions, his words, his body language … it had been messing with his mind for years, and he'd continue to do it just because he knew it bugged Nick. As this thought flashed through his mind, he grinned. That was another part of Greg that Nick loved, and he wouldn't want it to change for anything.


End file.
